[Intro Log #01] Enjoy your new vacation home

[oasismods]

INTRO LOG #01

The Crash "-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾ȩ̨̬̙͛̐̋̀̕͜m̻̬͈̠͒̌͌̍͌͜ ̡̲͈̙̼̽̾͆̊̃f̖̟͉̲̪̈́̾̀̂̀ą̢̯̘̙́̇͑̈̋i̪̱̙̘̟͌́̄̊͘ļ̢̛̲͕̣͐̎̿͛u͕̣̥̘̳̓̃͗͠͝r͉̠̗͖̰̉̅͗̚͘ę̛̺̥̝̘̄͑̌̈́.̣̫͕̰̭̓͂̈́̓͊ ̟̗͔̟͋̿̒̚̚ͅA̠̫̬̼̣̒̇͛́̊l̫̬͎̤͈͑̀͂̐̆ë̡̧̝̺͖́̍̂͂͝r͙͍̱̫͕̆͊̾͐̕ţ͙̻̣̝͒́̄̈́͆!͕̫͓͉̹̌̍̽̂̓ ̧̛̲͎͖̳̌̆̾̏░͖̲̞̼̹̇̄̌̈́̊░̡͍͎͍̘̇̈́̕͝░̪͚̼̦̃̋͊̆͜͠è̛̞̬͙̠̖̊͌̂m͖̝̟̗̣̽̄̐̚͠ ̛̹̯͈̮̼̈́͊͌͠f̧̰̖͋̊̈̊̑͜͜ą̨͚͎̹̀̎̑͋́i̞̬͓̭̳̎́̓͘͠l̢͈̲͇͕̈́̆̐̌̈́ư̰̞͚̻̺̔͑̓̑ṛ͎̯͚̇̔̾̔̏͜ę̛̻̼̭͊͆̕͜͝.̯̖̫̣͔̔̋̔̽͠ ̺̼̟̲͌́͒̔̅ͅĄ̹̝̖̺̂̇̽̒͊ĺ̛̺̰̰̤͎̾͗͝e̛̗̭̻͕̹̓̔͆̆r̢̛͙͖̘̻̈̚̚͘t̰̲̠̖̻̉͂̆̓̇!̬̞̟͉̺̂͆̊͑͐" You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything... You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash. You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable. Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go. "W̞͓̝͓̓̀̍̒͘͜ȃ̢̗̪̤͇̔̃̚͝░̟͙̯̳̱̈͂̈́̈́͠n̬̘̬̤̠͛̅̈́͋͝i͓̟͈͎͙̐̆̈́̔̓n̡̟̤̟̤̑͐͋͐̚g̩̱͖͉̻͌͛̈͆̈́!̧̪̰͇̦̓̂̆̌͝ ̢͔̣̠̗̾̉́̌̒C̢̥̟͍͊͊͑̀̚ͅr̛͙̪̙̟͐̽̓̅͜i̫͖̻̣̘̽̑͂̾̎t̩͇̦̬̞͊̌̑̈́͝i̡̳̠̞̐̿̍̎̀͜c̡͕͙͕͕̓̊̌̾͘å̼̯͍̙̲̍̏̚͝l̢̥͉̮̙̋̆͐̆́ ̢̰̞͕̯̋̈́̈́̋͌f͇͔̟̻̈̽͌̒̉ͅa̳̰̠͉͔͒̑̈̈͘i̟̭̦̺͎̍̾̽̈́̐░͕̣̥̭͛̿̓̽̐ͅ░̰̪̠͇͍̆͛̀͝͝░̘̱̩̳̘͆̈́̆̀̚e̛̻͈̳̳̺̊̔̚̕.͙̟̳̼̾̀̅͊͊ͅ" With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry. [Mod Note: In case you missed the testdrive, this is your chance to play out your arrival or any other intro CR] Traversing the Forest Between the crash and the ruined city is a lush forest full of skittish wild life, the ruins of a farmhouse-like structure, various flora, and the occasional body. Try not to get too close to those bodies, kids. They have a tendency to wake up and try to get ya. The closer to the city one gets, the more frequently they'll see a dormant body. Hopefully you took the time to set up your small ear piece. Once inserted into the ear, the device will prompt you for your name. Once spoken, the device in your ear will be given its own address and all someone has to do is tap the button on their ear piece, speak "private to" then their friend's name, and it will open a private channel to the comm device coded with that name. Open radio signals can be sent by simply tapping the button and speaking. Once you reach the city gates, you will find a mass of corpses piled against the closed gates. These corpses will stir when they catch the scent of the survivors or hear their approach. You may want to take care of the dormant infected before they fully regain awareness. Or, you know, trip the closest person to you and run like hell. Maybe they'll be too distracted chewing on your former friend to follow... Once inside the city, you'll meet its only surviving occupant. He's a bit unique and a bit... well... he's unique. ⨷ TK Baha's Warm Welcome ⨷[TALK] "Smells like livin' folk. Yer just lucky I got no munitions left." Sitting on a porch with a shotgun balanced in his lap was a scarred gentleman wearing dark goggle-like glasses. He was missing a leg and looked a little worse for the wear. His voice was thick with a drawl, but he seemed to be well and alive. He chuckled and lowered the shotgun back to his lap, patting the barrel. "Naw, ain't seen nothin' worth shootin' in a long time. Heehee! Ohhh-hoo boy, you lot've seen better days. Well, come on over here and git that gate shut before somethin' with an appetite thinks we're open for business." TK smiled and laughed again, beckoning the shipwrecked survivors to come closer. "Let's see. First things first, you lot gotta have somewhere to stay. Hotel's open an' prices 're cheaper than ever! Forgive the staff, they ain't too lively, though if you know what I mean. Heeheehee! You get it, right? 'cause they're all dead. Make yerselves at home. You're gonna be here a while." TK pulls out an old, worn, folded pamphlet and holds it out. There are plenty to go around. "This here's a tourist's guide ta everythin' ya need to know. Or, well, kinda some of it. Anyway, it's useful. Take it. The name's TK Baha and I been around these parts a while. Anything you need, you let me know, okay?" "You got a good set a' legs, right? See, I gotta ask you a favour. I ain't been keeping up with things. Gonna need you to find me a power cell for this here transceiver. Think I stashed the last one at the hotel reception desk. Or was it the minimart? The fuel station? Anyway, you get me that and I'll get this here piece of scrap workin' again."

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Comments

city gates

[stabbyterms]

[ Clearing the gates had been, thus far, the most difficult part of this ordeal. Gamora had expected Daryl's warning to have been, in the end, nothing more than the belief of a madman. Up until then, she hadn't seen any sign of his "walkers", no shambling corpses, not even much other sign of life beyond herself and the other survivors. Although, calling what they found at the city gates life was up for debate.

Especially since Gamora's made it perfectly clear to them -- not that they were aware in the first place -- that it wasn't something she would tolerate. All that trying to get back up, in varying states of decay, it just wasn't done. The few that had gotten to their feet have since been led out further from the mass and dispatched by the former assassin, which, now, leaves her back up by the gates themselves, clearing the remaining bodies. The ones already and truly dead are being dragged aside, tossed into an entirely new pile. Any that decide to move again, well, they get a quick and, by now, very irritated knife through the eye socket, and then dragged aside.

Apparently, gore isn't something that bothers her (although at this point, she's wishing she'd been wearing something less dress-like when she'd been abducted and dumped down here; thanks for nothing, assholes). ]

Are you going to stand there and watch all day? [ She eventually takes a break from this fairly morbid task to pin a deadpan stare on whoever might be doing just that, watching, for whatever reason. ] Because these aren't all going to move themselves.

[ Some will, of course, but not all. ]

[dirtyredneck]

You look like you're handling things.

[Daryl shrugged, but started over to help her haul the next body to the side. When it was in the pile of dead dead and they were moving to the next one, he wiped his hands across his jeans and licked his lips. One thumb came up to his mouth. His head dipped so he had to look at her from under his heavy, stringy bangs.]

You uh... Thanks. For helping the girl.

[He'd seen Gamora get up next to her after Athena had darted ahead in excitement and without the caution she should have had. When the bodies started rising and the fool girl had to struggle to pull her knife out.]

Need to get her a belt.

[stabbyterms]

No, grab a different body. Weight isn't the problem, the amount is.

[ She said that along with waving him off when he came up to help her. Gamora's strong, but even she can only clear so many bodies away so fast. To the rest, she only gave him a short-lived frown, more thoughtful than disapproving, then bent down to grab the legs of the next corpse and pull. ]

It was nothing. [ Of course she helped Athena. That only made sense. ] I thought I told her to use something as a belt.

[ There we go, there was the disapproval, although minor. ]

Maybe one of these will still have one still intact. It isn't as if they would need a belt anymore.

[dirtyredneck]

Weren't nothing. Plenty of people who wouldn't do that.

[Daryl moved to a different one, taking it by the wrist and dragging it like a bag of trash. He'd done this so many times he'd lost count. Clearing the dead. At least they didn't have to bury anyone. Yet.]

Anything they have on 'em is gonna be too rotted to be good for long. Old as they are.

[He took a glance at the gates while he pulled his knife and moved to slam it into the head of a body that had started to try and pull itself out of the pile. Slowly waking up as those over it were taken away. He didn't bother putting it away again as he took the thing by the arm and made to clear it.]

Probably have better luck inside the city. One of the stores. What's left of them. If this city went as fast as the others, there'll be plenty of clothes and jewelry and all that bullshit just waiting to be taken.

[stabbyterms]

And those people would be cowards.

[ She dragged the body away by its leg, only pausing to look back when Daryl had put another one down. When it's apparent he was fine, she finished pulling it the rest of the way and swung it up onto the next pile like it weighed nothing (which, with how gaunt it was, may as well be the truth).

Speaking of that pile, she scowled at it. This was going to take too long, even with help. Of all things she thought she would be stuck doing ever... ]

Fair enough. Though that's assuming it wasn't stripped bare by whoever holed up here before.

[dirtyredneck]

Don't usually happen 'less there's a group big enough. If there is, we'd do best to worry more about them than about what we can find.

[Groups were a bigger danger than walkers. Big groups especially. They had more to protect and more people to do the protecting with.

And speaking of groups...]

You uh... you got anyone? Here?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Well, Peter was examining the wall, but at her words, he turns slightly to make a face at her -- something pinched and exasperated. He didn't do too well with the whole-- knife thing. Handling a weapon like that took a certain finesse that Peter lacked.

It's why he's carrying a bloodied branch, which is currently resting on his shoulder.

Finesse, indeed. ]

I was just thinking. I mean, what are we really expectin' to find in here? Doesn't look like these gates have been opened in a while, you know?

[ He hesitates only a second as he moves to help her move the next body. ]

I've seen enough post-apocalypse movies to know that the true evil is man, or whatever.

[stabbyterms]

[ Not what Gamora's first choice would have been, provided she herself had lacked a knife, but better a branch than nothing at all. ]

A map? Something to fix the drop ship's radio with?

[ Something with a roof, at the very least.

Gamora didn't sound particularly optimistic about it, though. Not disappointed either, mind, just... neutral, deadpan, maybe even professional. She's been that way since the dead first started crawling their way out of the pile towards them, trying to put some emotional distance between this mess and herself.

Even so, she can't help it. She does give him an annoyed look, a brief break in that otherwise eerily calm facade, when he reaches for the same body she was going for. ]

I can get this one. Grab the next. [ And, yes, really, she can sling a body around pretty easily. ] And I'm not sure how that logic applies here if all the men are this dead.

[nostalgiabomb]

I just mean-- a place that's fortified like this? We could potentially find survivors.

[ He doesn't bother responding to the annoyed look she flashes his way -- maybe he's built up a tolerance to it? -- but he knows better than to question her. If she doesn't need help hauling around the literal dead weight, then she doesn't need help.

The body he's aiming for twitches, though, and Peter hefts his trusty branch. ]

--Fore!

[ He swings, the branch slamming into the side of the infected man's head, snapping his neck with a crunch. Peter waits -- part moment of silence, part wary observation -- but when the body doesn't move again, he grabs it by the collar of its tattered shirt. He continues speaking, as if he hadn't been interrupted. ]

And those survivors could be gigantic assholes.

[stabbyterms]

Survivors? Here? I doubt th--

[ Okay, so the yelling and that crunch gets Gamora to immediately drop what she's doing (let the bodies hit the floor ground!) and whirl back towards him, already halfway to drawing her knife.

But... it's for nothing and she's left, first, staring at him and his stick, then rolling her eyes and sheathing the knife again. Seriously, Quill? Fore? What does that even mean? ]

So we'll be in the kind of company that we are used to. If there are any survivors.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ it's the number that comes after three duh gamora ]

Yeah. [ He says it a little flatly, frowning at the gate again. ] "If," I guess.

[ He drags the body into the pile of the damned and dead, trying not to think too hard on what they're doing, and doing his level best to ignore the friggin' smell. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, grimacing, before moving on to the next corpse. ]

You ever seen anything like this before?

[phaselocknroll]

[ Maya could appreciate another warrior, and Gamora seemed to have slaying zombies down to an art. In her defense, she had just wandered over, so she hasn't been watching for long. ]

Some of them might.

[ Hey, you were thinking it, Maya's just saying it. Still, Maya's not overly fond of being dead weight, so the next zombie to so much as twitch is getting a ride in Maya's phaselock- hoisted off of the ground in a swirling bubble of purple light. A split second later it bursts into flames. Maya directs her phaselock bubble over one of the piles with a wave of her hand, and drops the charred remains with little ceremony. ]

but ok srs now

[stabbyterms]

If only they were all so polite to shamble away from the gates for us.

[ A number had, in fact! Which had been nice, picking them off bit by bit as they tried. She would have gone on to say more, only-- huh. That was a whole lot of light. Fire, too.

Gamora pauses in her own corpse-dragging to watch, carefully impassive about it, then looks at Maya again, an eyebrow quirked. ]

And that was...?

[ Please share with the class, Maya. ]

[phaselocknroll]

I don't think zombies really do polite.

[ She shrugs ] That was my phaselock. Think of it as a psychic ability, I suppose.

[stabbyterms]

You never know. One day we may come across one with manners.

[ ...which might be funnier if she sounded like she were kidding, which she is. One day she'll be better at that, honest. ]

Useful. Can you do more than one at once or is that your limit?

[phaselocknroll]

I somehow doubt that.

[ Yeah, guess who didn't realize it was a joke. ]

I can only trap one at a time, but the fire will usually spread to any nearby.

[officio]

[ If anyone had asked her, before this, if corpses could move -- Padmé would have smiled and said it was nothing but a ghost story, told to scare children. The dead could not come back to life, that was one of the cornerstones that the galaxy was built on, one rule not even the jedi could break. The dead were dead, their connection to the living Force severed...

... except these corpses were still moving, still trying to attack them. It looks like the whole thing is more than a horror story, after all.

She had been lost in thought, watching the pile of corpses, wondering what kind of epidemic must have hit them, what exactly made them like this... these normal people, who must have wanted nothing but to lead normal lives, happy and uncomplicated. She wonders why they couldn't have just had peace; if the Republic couldn't have helped this planet survive.

If, if. But there is no Republic anymore, and these creatures who once were people are now beyond their help.

Padmé is jolted out of her thoughts when the alien woman speaks to her, tone dry. And if it surprises her that she's asking a pregnant-looking woman to help with heavy lifting, well... she's another woman -- perhaps she can tell she's not exactly pregnant anymore. ]

I only just arrived - that is hardly all day. But you're right... we can't leave them here. [ They should be burned, the corpses, in a funeral pyre... if only they could make one. ]

[stabbyterms]

You, I wasn't talking to.

[ Gamora's no fool. She can see just fine what kind of state Padmé is in, although she can make a guess as to her no longer being with child. A certain amount of weight is expected to be lost at birth, although it is true she has no idea if that holds true to this woman's species (she looks human, but is she?). Primarily, she would know if a target was faking or not (Padmé is not a target, thankfully). This, definitely not fake, but also not what it seems, either.

Though if she feels like helping, Gamora's hardly one to stop her. ]

We've all only just arrived. [ Within that day, anyway. ] But if you're going to keel over from dragging bodies, I'd rather you did not.

[officio]

[ Her look at being thought to keel over from simply helping isn't quite indignant, but perhaps closer to a flash of frustration before it bleeds into understanding, resignation. She's used to doing, working, helping. Fighting a war for several years would do that to anyone-- but even before that, Padmé was always the type to act rather than sit still and do nothing.

But she does know enough about her own medical state to know that exhausting herself now, with how things were before she woke up on that dropship, with a phantom grip still burning around her throat... it would be suicide.

And she has no intention to die here. ]

I'm not going to do anything that I can't. But standing here while others do the work isn't really me. And if moving the bodies is what is needed to help... then I will do as much as I can.

[stabbyterms]

[ Gamora watches the transformation from indignant into anger, then into that resigned look, impassively. It isn't on her to decide Padmé's actions, much less how she should feel about them. Even less so how she should feel. If the woman had remained upset by what Gamora had said, then there would have been trouble. As she does not, well, that's fine.

The last thing she wants to do is pick a fight with a pregnant (or formerly so) lady.

To it all, however, she only offers a shrug. ]

Then go ahead. Just try not to get in the way.

[ Saying that, she gets back to her own work at picking up the next closest body to move. It isn't that Gamora means to be so cold about it, but she doesn't want to give the impression of being one to worry or fret. She is a little worried that Padmé might still hurt herself, truth be told, but she isn't going to state as much in kinder terms. ]

[officio]

I wouldn't be helping much if I did, would I?

[ Her tone is wry, quiet -- but she moves, slowly, taking the knife she'd tied to her waist with the rope found in that backpack, using it to poke at one of the bodies. When it doesn't move, she crouches down as much as she can, taking hold of one leg and starting to drag the body. ]

I've spoken to some of the others... some of them don't seem to have known anything about space travel, or other planets. [ But this woman... ] But you do.

[ She may not recognize what planet the woman comes from, but one thing is certain: she's from some other planet. Another system. ]

[shuckit]

[ gore bothers thomas. it bothers him a lot, not because he hasn’t seen plenty of it, but because he has. when they’d first walked up, and the bodies started to unpile, started to run towards them, thomas had been focused. he’d helped the others dispatch them just as efficiently, trying to go for quick kills, instant fatalities, and more than anything, keep these away from the others, because there’s no telling how many are immune and how many aren’t. or even if thomas is, given this isn’t the Flare. it looks a lot like it, has spread like it and devastated the globe like it, but it’s not the same.

it doesn’t stop the pile of bodies from striking ever fresh memory of home, though. piles of bodies, cranks ripping into people, into themselves, eating them. the desolate places in the scorch, where the bloated corpses were just left out to bake in the sun. the stench of it.

and the blood on his hands now. he’d had the knife newt gave him to fight, and it required getting fairly close, and while his clothes already had blood and dirt and carbon dust staining them, these are fresh. once all the bodies that were going to rise were taken care of, he’d run for a stream, jumping into it to try to clean all of it from him. but some lingers, still, in the lines of his hands, underneath his fingernails.

he’s picking at it, more an idle action, as his eyes watch the bodies gamora’s moving, sat on the ground with legs bent, forearms draped on his knees, looking entirely too tense for comfort. if you watch closely, he’s shaking, and the red rimming his eyes isn’t just from lack of decent rest. ]

We should leave them. [ he answers, voice tight. ] Climb the walls instead.

[stabbyterms]

Not everyone will be able to climb that.

[ Whoever everyone may be, or if there are ever any more everyones, and so on. Gamora alone could scale a wall, sure, but could he even manage it? He looked fairly young, too, not unlike Athena, if a bit older. For that, at least, she can forgive the shaking she notices, even at a distance.

This isn't something she should be asking of children, even she knows that. So, in this case, she only shakes her head and turns back to her grim task alone. ]

Stay over there. Keep watch on the treeline instead. [ A safer option, though what she expects to come from there, who knows. ] We don't know what else might be around here.

LMFAO LOOK MAN HE'S HAD A BAD TIME OK

[shuckit]

I meant because it's probably a disease.

[ he's also said it because it's driving him nuts looking at these bodies, or just being around them, but he's keeping that to himself. he's seen worse, but just the quiet of it, maybe, is getting under his skin. he could make it over the wall, he can make it through all the rest of this, he can stay alive and keep his friends alive. but he won't pretend there's not something seriously fucked up here, and he won't act like it doesn't affect him. ]

You're handling infected corpses. Not that it matters if it's airborne.

[ they would've gotten it during the fight already. hell, maybe just walking around the jungle. not spoken in a defeatist attitude, there's nothing thomas loathes more than deciding your doomed before you even try, just matter-of-factly. he wants to know what this is, how it spread, why they were sent here without anything to try, who even knows, fixing it? colonizing? to what end, it's still here, whatever ruined this place.

pushing himself up, he turns to look towards the trees, as asked, knife pulled free at his side. it's better this way anyway, with his back to the corpses. this won't be it. he knows that. ]

[stabbyterms]

And if it's contracted by contact, it's already too late.

[ They've been fighting them. Continued exposure may make it worse, but, in Gamora's case? She isn't worried. She can't even remember the last time she caught anything and she isn't about to begin worrying now (of course, she should worry, but she doesn't know that).

Regardless, she's making short work of what's left in front of the gates. It won't be long before they can pry the gates open.

Still, considering how the poor boy looked, she could still find it in her to ask while she worked, ]

Did you get hurt in the fight?

[ more or less her "are you okay", okay ]